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to my baby maybe never to be born by Cecily Fasham

wobbling ovals of light // there will be dawn and

dawn again. a million seasons where the blossoms bloom & burst

& flutter to the uncut grass // just as today

the little magpie hops across the lawn, dips in and out

of bushes, plucking twigs to build a home all of its own. And yes, I

know this is an optimistic view / on Friday afternoon we’re sitting on

the park bench in the breezy sunshine looking out

across the verdant woods, the little prickled flecks of blue

as the forget-me nots & crops of speedwell flicker into view -

Jen says oh, well,

the world will burn. she says, there won’t

be any generations after this // but I hold tight to that reflexive urge

to hope that I will hold you & you’ll know that you are loved

_____________

Cecily Fasham is a novice poet & PhD student at the University of Cambridge, studying sonnets by and for the modern woman. Her poems have won the Quiller-Couch & T.R. Henn Prizes, and have been published in Spam, Wet Grain, & DAISYWORLD. Like everyone, she wishes that she wrote more.

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